


London Snowflakes

by pixielove



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Larry fluff, Larry have a naughty kitten named Peter Parker, Lou's birthady, M/M, Mostly just fluff galore, Tooth Rotting Fluff, eludes to Larry kinkytimes, mention of Larry sex but nothing too smutty, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:56:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2850020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixielove/pseuds/pixielove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot! of Larry after spending Louis' birthday with their families, a surprise engagement, and a very naughty black kitten who likes to test one, Louis Tomlinson. Christmas Larry fluff. Also, Harry can't resist a soft pair of blue eyes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	London Snowflakes

**Author's Note:**

> I hope it's okay (considering down with a nasty viral infection and it hurts to swallow and I'm generally just whining to anyone who'll listen) - Just felt like doing a fluffy one-shot for Larry/Christmastime.

What do you get the boy who has everything and claims he wants nothing? _‘As long as we’re together, you, me, and Peter Parker… and that Christmas roast you promised me…and perhaps a spot of crème Brule, I’ll be set. Oh and some birthday sex. And follow up Christmas sex.’_

_‘You say that as if we never have sex at all and have to make up for it on birthdays and festive holidays…’ Harry had pouted, en route to Holmes Chapel on a flight from New York. Having said goodbye to the boys in New York, Harry and Louis had boarded their flight, with the plan of staying with Anne, Robin and Gemma for the day, celebrating Lou’s twenty-third with a birthday lunch, and then driving down to Jay and Dan’s to enjoy a birthday dinner._

_‘You know what I mean, Styles. Surprise me,’ he winked, and nothing more was said, with Louis slipping his headphones on to watch Maleficent, and Harry lost in his thoughts, trying to mentally work out something more quirky and kinky than usual. It hadn’t been long before Louis had fallen asleep as they flew closer and closer to their destination, with Harry wide awake, chewing on his bottom lip, lost in his thoughts. Thoughts like, ‘Why is Louis Tomlinson so difficult to buy for?’_

_Granted, they’d ended up enjoying a magical evening with Louis’ family, all gathered around and singing ‘happy birthday’ to Louis, who was met with a mountain of presents from his large family._

_“I got you this, babe. And something else…but it’s for later,” he whispered, careful not to be overheard by the loud bustle and gaggle of the Tomlinson sisters. Harry had promptly handed Louis a Santa sack filled with Doncaster Rovers collector items, DVD’s, a Donny dog mascot dog plush toy (much to Louis’ amusement) and beneath a pile of Louis’ favourite chocolates and wines, a packet of cigars (for laughs), a silk emerald waist –length smoking jacket with matching slippers, and at the very bottom of the sack, a small square package. The way Louis’ breath hitched when he’d dug his way to the bottom of the Santa sack, pulling the tiny parcel out would be forever etched into Harry’s memory._

_“So, Haz, is the cigars, smoking jacket and slippers part of your Sugar Daddy kink or something?” Louis  joked lightly, fidgeting nervously with the small blue box in his hands._

_“Mmhmm…” Harry mumbled in agreement, watching Louis intensely._

_“Okay. Sounds like a plan. But, um, what…” he tried; squeezing the box and swallowing audibly, a hesitance in his eyes that made Harry feel like he might vomit._

_“Open it,” Harry replied hoarsely, voice raspier than usual, as if he were coming down with a cold. Harry waited and observed the way the blue Christmas tree lights flashed against Louis, embedding him in their electrical pulses._

_Louis looked about his surroundings cautiously. His sisters were being rowdy – Lottie was drinking wine from the bottle, practically downing the whole thing while Jay, clueless, prepared the puddings in the kitchen. Fizzy was at Louis’ side, nosily inspecting all of his gifts._

_“A DONNY BEAR,” she snorted, taking it from Louis, who immediately snatched it back._

_“Mittens off, love. He’s mine. Haz, let’s go…somewhere…private,” he suggested weakly, no doubt aware that a private spot in this abode was rather hard to come by. Taking Harry’s hand and carting the Santa stocking of gifts, he led Harry to his room, shutting and locking the door behind them._

_“Do you find it as weird as I do, being back in your old bedroom?” Harry asked, observing all the Doncaster Rovers and David Beckham posters and merchandise plastering the walls and shelves. He sat himself on the edge of Louis’ old bed, watching his boyfriend carefully, and not oblivious to the fact that Louis was tossing the small box from one hand to another, shifting his weight on either foot back and forth._

_“Hmm, what?” Louis asked, seemingly dazed._

_“Never mind. Just…Lou, just open it. I think… I think you already know, like.”_

_Blue met green searchingly._

_“But…I mean, yeah, I want to, you know I want to. I know we’ve talked about this, one day. But I mean, are we… ready?” Louis asked in an unusually small, vulnerable voice. Harry felt his heart deflate like a popped balloon on a warm summer’s day._

_“Lou, just…I’m sorry, if it’s too sudden. I… I just wanted to make this special, because I feel ready, and I hoped you would be ready for this, and I felt… I just felt, what better time than tonight, on your birthday, and the eve of Christmas?”_

_Louis exhaled sharply and slowly pried the box open, releasing another shaky breath as he pulled out a beautifully rare silver and turquoise ring, imbedded with small diamonds on either side. Harry held his breath, waiting and watching. Louis seemed to inspect closer, an uncontrolled gasp escaping him, unwanted tears blurring his vision._

_“Hi,” it simply read, engraved on the side of the ring._

_“You…are…s-such a sappy f-fucking fool,” Louis managed to choke out, throwing himself into Harry’s arms, and they were sixteen and eighteen again, having been told that their fates would from this day forth be aligned, not even questioning it as they instinctively threw themselves at one another, Harry picking the older boy up, Louis wrapping his legs around the boy wearing the same cardigan as him._

_**********_

“Do you have to leave so soon?” Jay pouted, holding Doris on one hip and passing Harry a cup of tea with her free hand.

“Afraid so, mum. We made plans with the boys,” he lied. The only plans Harry and Louis had made was some peace and quiet in their London flat, wanting nothing more than to lie in bed lazily together, watching the snow fall. “But we’ll be back again in a bit, I promise,” he said genuinely, leaning in to hug and kiss his mum on the cheek before spreading butterfly kisses all over Doris’ nose and cheeks.

After saying farewell to everyone, Harry and Louis had jumped into Harry’s Jaguar and made for the open road. Neither Jay nor Anne approved of them travelling to London on Christmas Eve; especially when many of the roads were closed off due to the snow, forcing Harry to take alternate routes.

“So, what will it be, Dimples? Harry Tomlinson? Louis Styles?”

“Harry Tomlinson,” Harry said huskily, without a moment’s hesitation.

“And when do you think we should set it for? I mean, I don’t wanna, like, rush into it and cock the whole thing up by not having enough time to plan it properly, but by the same token, I don’t want this to be like ‘A Very Long Engagement’”.

“No, neither. Zee might enjoy a long engagement, but that’s not for me. How about we give ourselves, say, nine months or so? Not too soon, not too late, enough time, in fact, for a baby to grow and be born…” Harry said, with a rather hinting tone to his voice. Louis’ jaw tightened.

“A wedding in September, then?” Louis asked, ignoring the baby hint.

“Yeah, why not? Gotta think where we wanna get hitched. I don’t care what you say; we are not getting hitched by Elvis in Vegas.”

“Aww, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. You’re such a girl, you know, wanting a fairy-tale type wedding, I know you,” Louis said, a mixture of fondness and distaste in his voice.

 

*****

 

Christmas in London was, as always, a magical winter wonderland. The streets were littered in snow, the dead trees lit up in neon purple fairy-lights, The Eye sparkling beneath the stars, the Big Ben standing tall and impressive next to dozens of Christmas trees lit up.

“Good to be here for Christmas,” Harry said, nuzzling into Louis’ neck once he’d pulled into the secure basement parking of their apartment, turning the engine off.

“Sure is. I hope that naughty devil child of us has been behaving for Betty,” Louis commented, as they exited the car, Harry guiding Louis through the lift with his hand on the small of his back, rising to their floor.

“I’m sure he was a perfect little angel,” Harry deadpanned, and Louis certainly wasn’t convinced. Arriving at Betty’s door, they knocked and waited for Betty, a woman in her 60s with Egyptian eye-shaped spectacles and purple hair wound into a bun. The woman opened the door – behind her was a crowd of family and friends gathered around and singing Karaoke songs badly. Harry grinned like a fool.

“Hey Betty, merry Christmas!” he beamed, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Evening boys, merry Christmas to you! I take it you’re here to collect Peter?”

“Please don’t tell me he clawed at all your wallpaper,” Louis moaned, following her inside with Harry lagging behind. “We’ll pay for all the damages; I know he’s a nightmare…”

“Damages?” Betty asked, laughing and leading them past the throngs of people too drunk to realise who was squeezing past them and into the laundry room where Peter Parker, a fully black five-month old kitten, was purring contently in a cane basket. “Nonsense. He was a perfect angel,” she said, mimicking Harry’s words. Harry shot Louis a wide dimpled grin and the thumbs up.

“See, babe? Peter Parker can be good…”

“Yeah, only because he’s trying to charm and deceive Betty!” Louis hissed, “When in reality he’s a right little demon.”

“Is he really that bad?” Betty asked, amazed, as she handed the basket to Louis whose mouth was set into a hard thin line as he accepted the kitten back.

“Yes. Had to get the walls re-done, he ruined them. He destroyed our good speakers. He’s a menace, I tell you.”

“And I suppose you’ve tried reward and punishment to train him?” Betty asked.

“Tried everything. Even considered getting a cat therapist in… but Harry over here wouldn’t let me, said he’ll grow out of it, that he’s just… I don’t know, what did you say, Haz? Letting off steam? See, here I was thinking cats were real low maintenance, keep to themselves, like.”

“Babe, Peter Parker is your spirit animal. You’re two peas in a pod, I swear. Can you blame him for being an energetic little bunny like his Daddy?”

“Don’t call me his Daddy. I am not his Daddy. You, you on the other hand, you can be his sappy mummy but I refuse to take responsibility for the little- OWCH, fuck, what the fuck was that for?” Louis growled, Peter Parker having just thrown a paw out and scratched Louis’ arm, drawing blood.

 

*****

 

Cleaning the blood off Louis’ forearm, Harry next covered the cut with a band-aid, making sure to kiss the spot.  Peter Parker, having had some cat biscuits for dinner, was sent to bed in their room, his cane basket placed on the floor beside Harry’s side of the bed.

“The cat fucking hates me, I swear to God…” Louis was ranting, as Harry carefully carried out the last of the presents he’d wrapped and placed them under their Christmas pine tree, lit up with an assortment of every coloured hanging ball, Christmas lights in every colour of the rainbow shining in a rather nauseating but somehow endearing way, a lopsided star placed up the top of the tree.

“He doesn’t hate you, Boo. He was probably just mad that you said you weren’t his daddy and retaliated.”

“Harry,” Louis sighed, rubbing at his temples while Harry flicked through the channels and left it on a channel showcasing Christmas in London and the Christmas carols being sung, people holding candles and fireworks going off in various parks with live bands playing. “H, he can’t fucking understand a word you or I say,” Louis added in a broody drawl. In response, Harry leaned in and gently pinched Louis’ thigh, their wordless, ‘you’re silly but I love you’.

“Yeah, I know, but you know animals pick up on tones, he picked up on your negative tone and it upset him. You can’t fault him on that. You made him feel fearful! Peter Parker might think we’re just going to abandon him or something,” Harry reasoned, a grin splitting his face when Louis, however reluctant and over it all he looked, reached down and pinched down at Harry’s thigh in response.

“Whatever, cat whisperer. Wanna turn in soon?” Louis asked.

“What, and not give you the best birthday fuck of your life? You just wanna be a nana and go straight to sleep? Well, well, the Tommo, turning down sex…” Harry smirked, linking their hands together, slipping his fingers between the spaces of Louis’, and absently brushing the new ring now on Louis’ ring finger.

“Who said anything about turning down sex?” Louis asked, looking so alarmed that Harry threw himself forwards into Louis and laughed heartily.

“‘Turn in soon?’”Harry echoed, earning a smack on the bicep from Louis who was huffing and pouting.

“After fucking, obviously. Hope you’ve got something good planned. I want you to wreck me so I sleep like a baby,” Louis announced.

“Oh, is that so?” Harry asked, trying to hide the way his heart had stammered and then leapt into his throat. “Well, if you go change into that sexy sugar daddy dressing-gown and go light a cigar – and I mean this as a one-off, Lou, I want you to give up that filthy habit, but just tonight, in the spirit of things… you go change into that, and I’ll meet you in the bedroom in ten minutes, yeah?”

Louis, looking flustered now, wriggled his way out of Harry’s embrace and hurried into the bedroom. Harry turned his back for a second, about to get the flavoured lube and the new sparkly, pink (water-proof) vibrator he’d bought as an extra present for Louis. Harry had additionally brought himself a peach and black laced corset with garter belt and stockings, but it was as much for Louis as it was for Harry. About to rummage through the closet and pull out the items hidden beneath an array of huge winter coats, Harry stopped in his tracks when Louis exclaimed, shrieked and started cursing.

“YOU FUCKING LITTLE SHIT, BET YOU THINK IT’S FUNNY PISSING ON MY SIDE OF THE BED, HUH?”

 

*****

 

Louis had asked to be wrecked and Louis was wrecked. It was past one in the morning and he was sprawled out naked and flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat, his fringe sticking to his forehead, slumped against Harry who was still clad in the peach and black lace corset and scratchy stockings. Having locked Peter Parker out of the bedroom for the moment (“wouldn’t want to scar him, anyway, nobody wants to see their parents doing the dirty,” Harry had commented), Harry had proceeded to thoroughly wreck Louis in every way imaginable. With Harry’s tongue happily and sloppily eating Louis out, Louis had been reduced to an incoherent, gasping, pleading mess. Harry had enjoyed making Louis come three times, once from the rim-job, once from a blowjob, and once from a combination of the new vibrator and Harry’s own dick, which he’d simply pulled out of the lacy panties, shoving them down a tad down his thighs and driving into Louis without much more delay. He’d pushed his new fiancé to the edge several times, much to their mutual torture, before flipping them over, directing Louis to ride him. They’d teased each other like this until Harry, unable to take it much longer, had slammed Louis back onto his front, ass in the air, moving slowly and sensually, rocking his hips, Louis’ pleas like honey to his ears.

“Please what, Lou?” he’d smirked, biting into his neck. Louis hadn’t hesitated to beg to be fucked, with Harry pounding into him, their hips slapping together, the headboard to the bed banging against the wall in a certain rhythm, matching the pace of the mattress and springs creaking with the impact.

“Relaxed, Boo?” Harry asked several moments later, having pulled out of Louis, and slumped against him, their skin sticking together in sweat, their heavy breaths slowly pattering to a gentle rhythm, hearts, however, wild as stallions behind their ribcages.

Louis just whined in response, apparently having no control over his vocal cords. Harry smirked and allowed himself to be the big spoon, just for tonight. Louis needed it. He curled up against Louis who’d turned on his side, backside pressed up snugly against Harry who whispered softly in his ear and lightly brushed the hair sticking to his cheekbones out of the way. Harry held his boy until his breathing slowed and he was asleep, his body slack in Harry’s warm embrace. Harry, still wide awake and feeling rather hyper-active after being the one to do all the work tonight, high on adrenalin, kissed Louis’ shoulder and gently pried himself away from Louis, careful not to wake him. Harry slid out of bed and opened the bedroom door which creaked. Harry tiptoed out, looking to get a glass of milk and find Peter Parker.

“Peter Paaarker,” Harry called, wandering into the kitchen, when he saw a pair of great big yellow eyes watching him in the dark. “Oh, there you are. Did you want some milkies too? Just don’t tell daddy,” Harry giggled, taking the milk carton from the fridge, pouring himself a glass and then filling Peter Parker’s bowl with a bit of milk. Peter Parker happily lapped up the contents and when they had both downed the milk, Harry bent down to scoop the kitten up and take him to bed, squeezing into bed behind Louis, he let Peter Parker settle on his chest, making ‘dough’ on Harry’s collarbone, purring loudly. He then walked around in circles before finding a comfortable spot in-between Harry and Louis, still purring loud as a motor.

“Yeah, you’re no demon, fluff-ball, you’re just a cute little itty bitty kitty cat,” Harry said sleepily, reaching out to stroke under his chin.

 

*****

 

Harry woke bright and early on Christmas morning to find Peter Parker wrapped around Louis’ neck like a black fluffy scarf. They were both still in the land of nod. Harry smiled, endeared. Slipping out of bed and rising to his feet, Harry wandered to the large bay windows, peeking out a gap in the curtains and observing the first signs of sunlight, flaming orange orbs painting the city as the sun steadily rose against a rose coloured sky. Throwing a wholly dressing gown on, Harry grabbed the keys to his downstairs PO BOX – he’d ordered one of Louis’ Christmas presents and it was currently waiting in the mail room downstairs. Taking the lift to the ground floor, Harry found his PO Box and extracted a parcel. Inside was a new soccer jersey Harry had custom made for Louis. Closing the little door to his post box, Harry took the parcel and was about to turn back to the lift for their floor when something white, fluffy and extremely cute caught his eye. Outside the lobby in the snow sat a white kitten, no more than three months old, watching Harry through the glass with big wide blue eyes. Harry’s heart melted in an instant and a second later he was outside, scooping the little kitten into his hands.

“Hello there! Has someone lost you, then?” he wondered, looking around to see if anyone appeared to be rushing around frantically, having lost a kitten. There was, however, nobody in sight. The streets were dead. “You have no collar. Hmm… well, it’s cold out, let’s get you inside and keep you warm…” Harry said, mentally telling himself that he’d just look after her until he had found her owner. He’d keep her fed and safe in the meantime, he decided, and put up flyers…

Clutching a parcel in one hand and a pure white kitten in the other, Harry arrived back into his and Louis’ apartment, shivering violently as he shut the door behind him.

“Well, let me just find something for you to gobble up…and I’ll get a fire lit…” Harry told the kitten, rummaging through the fridge for Peter Parker’s tinned cat food, quickly dispensing generous amounts into the silver cat bowl. Harry put the bowl to the floor and watched, concerned, as the kitten savagely gorged on the food as if she’d never seen food in her life. And on second thought, she was quite skinny.

Harry placed Louis’ last parcel under the tree and started on the fire, throwing logs of wood in and trying to get the flame to start, placing in bits of kindling and fire starters. A few moments later the fire was roaring, warming the flat.

“Okay, you, get warm just here…yes, that’s nice, isn’t it?” Harry asked the kitten, making a little bed for her beside the fireplace, propping up cushions and finding an old wholly blanket to give her. The kitten curled into a fluffy white ball beside the fire and fell asleep instantly.

Thinking he’d make Louis and himself some pancakes for breakfast, Harry wandered into their bedroom first to see if his boy was awake. He’d been about to announce his presence when something caused him to pause and hover secretly, catching what sounded oddly like Louis cooing.

“Yeah, you are a good boy, I know you are. Cheeky, but cute. You know you could get away with murder, don’t you? Who’s daddy’s good boy, then?” Louis asked Peter Parker, who was once again purring as loud as a motor, curled up on Louis’ chest.

“Ahem…” Harry beamed, making himself known. “He’s not so bad after all, then, is he?”

“Not when he decides to behave…” Louis said.

“Yeah, yeah, just admit you love his sassy attitude,” Harry grinned.

“I don’t love it when he ruins our furniture and scratches the shit out of me!”

“…he’ll grow out of it.”

“How do you know that for sure?”

“Well…uh…well, actually, I think…I mean, yeah, I think I found him a friend, see. And she might, like, placate him…a bit…” Harry trailed off, deflating when Louis jumped out of bed, throwing his discarded gown back on.

“You didn’t,” was all he said, rushing into the lounge. “Tell me you didn’t fucking… Harry Edward Styles, I am going to kill you,” came a high voice from the lounge. Tall and gangly as he was, Harry seemed to shrink, shoulders hunched as he scurried into the lounge.

“But, I mean, just look at her. Isn’t she the cutest thing you ever saw?” Harry tried, casting big hopeful eyes at Louis who just huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Harry, it’s hard enough with the devil child, what with our busy schedules. It’s not fair adding another mouth to feed into the mix.”

“But…they’ll keep each other company when we’re away, and Betty will be happy to look after both of them… aww, c’mon Lou, she… she found me…” Harry said, explaining the imploring way her baby blues had searched his through the glass door.

Louis, who seemed to be weighing up several problems in his mind, remained silent as he observed the kitten that’d since woken up. Louis sat down beside the fireplace, observing the kitten.

“I mean, yeah, it’s a cute kitten, but…probably belongs to someone, Haz…”

“Well, see, I thought about that. I told myself I’d just look after her until I find her owners, but then, you should have seen the way she wolfed the food down in, like, a split-second flat. Look how skinny she is! No collar, no contact details for any owners! And she’s all dirty and muddy and wet… I couldn’t just _leave_ her…”

Louis sighed and a slow smile emerged on Harry’s face, drawing his dimples out. It seemed that Louis was relenting, and a moment later, the kitten was giving Louis’ foot head rubs and purring. Louis gently picked her up, holding her up and eye-level. The kitten’s pink nose twitched and Harry caught his finance give the kitten a secret little smile.

“Okay, Haz. Okay. We’ll keep her,” he said, giving in, and a minute later, Harry had bowled Louis over with a fierce hug and the kitten fell out of Louis’ grip, falling into Harry’s lap and curling herself into a fluffy white ball once again.

“So, whatever will we name menace number two?” Louis asked.

“She won’t be a menace. She’s a perfect little snowflake. Oooh, let’s name her Snowflake.”

 

 

 


End file.
